


Lilacs

by SpicedGold



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Awkward fluff I guess, Deleted Concept from Paper Flowers, First Kisses, Hideously awkward boys with no idea what they are doing, M/M, Neither of them are very good at it, Vague attempts to understand feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: Finding the courage to ask Shikadai how he feels is only half the battle. Inojin still needs to figure out his own feelings, and those have been a constant mystery to him. Acting on them, however, seems to be easier than he thought it would be.
Relationships: Nara Shikadai/Yamanaka Inojin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	Lilacs

**Author's Note:**

> Had to pull this out of 'Paper Flowers', since it's not a shipping fic, and whilst doing so I remembered how much I love Shikadai and Inojin as a couple, and how much I missed writing the two of them together, and, well, this happened.  
> (This one shot works in the same canon as Daisy Chain and Paper Flowers, so those who haven't read it just need to know that Inojin may seem out of character, because he is neurodivergent in both those stories.)

It was actually Inojin who made the first move.

He sat in the grass, sketching the wildflowers, pencils spilling onto the ground, humming under his breath when he glanced to the side to see if Shikadai was still awake. By the looks of things, he was not.

Shikadai had his hands tucked behind his head, eyes closed, his breathing even and predictable. He looked peaceful and calm, and Inojin briefly considered abandoning the wildflowers in favour of drawing Shikadai instead. It wouldn’t be the first time, and certainly not the last.

Inojin gathered his pencils, zipped the case closed and put his sketchbook down, shifting slightly to look at Shikadai. He enjoyed studying the other boy, because Shikadai was interesting and captivating, and for a while now looking at him had sparked these strange flashes of emotion that Inojin couldn’t quite name.

It could range from peaceful glowing in his heart to wildfire hot flashes that raced across his face and down his chest into his belly. It was hard to understand, and Inojin didn’t want to bring it up in case he said something wrong. Sometimes he thought maybe it was love that he was feeling. Maybe it was that wonderous thing called a crush, or the flashfire of attraction. But Shikadai was so reluctant to talk about feelings, if he could help it, and so Inojin had remained silent on the topic.

But now, staring at Shikadai as he slept quietly, Inojin wondered if he shouldn’t do something about all the feelings. After all, he had been told that expressing them was healthy. And bottling them up didn’t make him feel very good. It made his stomach clench painfully, and it kept him awake at night, and sometimes after Shikadai left to go home, Inojin would puzzle over the hot feeling inside him and wonder how to make it go away.

Inojin wasn’t an idiot, and Chocho waxed poetic constantly about love and romance, and he knew what people did when they were in love. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted those same things. Life was a little different for him. He couldn’t stare reverently into people’s eyes; he couldn’t stand long, crushing embraces. He didn’t think he would do well with wandering hands on his skin, although he had, tentatively, found his own touch to be tolerable. He would just brush his hands over his stomach or take his time to really focus on the feel of his fingers running down his own arms. He hadn’t really dared with much more than that, although sometimes he lay on his back in bed, in the dark, and wondered if he was allowed to go any further.

Curiously, he laid a hand on the centre of Shikadai’s chest, just letting the weight of his arm sit there.

Shikadai twitched at the contact, but he didn’t open his eyes.

Feeling more confident, Inojin dragged his hand slowly down the centre of Shikadai’s chest, until he could feel the gentle rise and fall of his stomach as he breathed.

“You planning on going much lower than that and we should probably go home,” Shikadai mumbled.

Inojin flicked his eyes to Shikadai’s face, but the other boy still had his eyes closed. The lack of objection to Inojin’s tentative exploration was encouraging, and he shifted a little bit closer, leaning over Shikadai. For a moment, he stayed still, just wondering at what he was thinking. He could feel the beat of Shikadai’s heart under his palm, pressed as it was against the artery through his stomach.

Inojin lowered his face a bit more, carefully and softly pressing his lips to Shikadai’s. He lingered for a second or two, cataloguing the sensation, then he sat up abruptly.

Finally, Shikadai’s green eyes flickered open, instantly searching out the sky blue of Inojin’s. There were a shaky few seconds where Inojin held his gaze, as always losing himself in the glittery green, before he had to look away.

When Shikadai remained silent, Inojin wondered if he had done something wrong. An apology sat on his lips, as soon as he could summon the courage to speak, but before he could form the words, Shikadai untucked one hand from behind his head, reached up casually to lay that hand on the back of Inojin’s head, and pulled him back down. The second kiss was a fraction longer, but just as hesitant, and Inojin was relieved to find Shikadai just as cautious as he was.

This time, when he drew his head back, Shikadai had found something to say. “So . . . That.”

Inojin felt his cheeks burn. “Um . . .”

Shikadai sat up, and Inojin jerked back at the movement. He chewed on his lower lip, eyes dropping down to stare at the metal plate on Shikadai’s sleeve. He wasn’t sure how to explain himself. He wasn’t even sure what Shikadai felt. Shikadai always insisted they were _friends_ , and he pointed it out frequently. Only friends.

 _Just_ friends.

“Hey,” Shikadai said gently. “Are you worried?”

Inojin just nodded, uncertain of whether or not speaking was an option.

“You . . . know you don’t need to be, right?” Shikadai glanced sideways at Inojin. “I’m . . . not mad. At all.”

Inojin shrugged one shoulder, his hand tugging aimlessly at the grass.

“I think about it, too.”

Inojin flicked his eyes up, catching the dark shadows of leaves within the forest green of Shikadai’s eyes, before looking down again. “. . . What?”

Shikadai cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, well, you and I . . . doing stuff . . . like we just did.”

Inojin blinked, heartbeat suddenly roaring in his ears. “Oh.”

“So, I mean,” Shikadai shrugged. “If you wanna . . . do it again . . . it’s cool.”

“But you . . . always say we’re friends. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Shikadai shifted a bit. “Didn’t want you to feel any pressure to reciprocate, or whatever, and you’ve got enough going on, I didn’t want to confuse you or anything. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I thought it’d be better to just leave you alone.”

Inojin had no idea where the words came from, but in a sudden burst of confidence, of eagerness, he blurted out tactlessly, “My parents aren’t home.”

His hands weren’t quite shaking as he closed his bedroom door, but they definitely felt a little wobbly. Inojin turned, leaning his back against the door, staring blankly at Shikadai, who stood in the centre of the room, hands in his pockets, jaw skewed pensively to one side.

“What do you think about?” Inojin finally asked.

Shikadai looked surprised by the question. “What?”

“You said you . . . think about us doing stuff, too. Um . . . what do you think about?”

“Ah,” Shikadai laughed nervously. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “. . . I guess like, just a bit more than we did. Like a bit of kissing and a bit of touching. Nothing much.”

There was a sudden coil of nervousness in Inojin’s stomach, and it pushed up against the back of his throat. He swallowed, suddenly feeling sick with anticipation. “Um . . .”

“We don’t have to do that, though,” Shikadai said quickly. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I want to.” The declaration was small, but Inojin was certain of it. He wanted to chase these feelings, to see what happened. Whatever that might mean. Whatever it led to.

They stared at each other in mutually terrified silence, until Inojin dropped his gaze down to the floor. He leant a bit harder against the door, thankful that it was there to support his weight when he wasn’t sure his legs would be able to.

“Want to . . . do what?” Shikadai asked hesitantly. He stood tensely, shoulders set stiff.

“I . . .” Inojin shrugged, twisting his fingers together. “Dunno?”

“Wanna . . . wanna kiss a little more, maybe?” Shikadai asked. “That was . . . nice.”

“Yeah. It was.” Inojin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He reached out a hand, like he often did, waiting to see if Shikadai would take it.

Shikadai took the one step to bring them closer together, entwining his fingers with Inojin’s.

“Shikadai,” Inojin said quickly. “Wait.”

Shikadai froze in place. “What?”

“I . . .” Inojin hesitated. “Um, what do you feel? When you . . . when you think about me? And this? Is it . . . different, for you, to normal feelings?”

“Nothing I feel around you is ever normal,” Shikadai answered instantly, then flushed pink and stared down at the floor. “. . . I did not mean to answer that fast. Or with those words.”

He drew in a deep breath, staring at a spot on the door next to Inojin’s head. “Can I answer that later? When I’ve had time to think of a response that doesn’t make me sound stupid?”

Inojin nodded slowly, tightening his grip on Shikadai’s fingers. “Kiss me again?”

A little smile made its appearance on Shikadai’s face. “Ah, that’s better. That’s a question I can actually answer.”

The green of Shikadai’s eyes was practically glowing, and Inojin wanted to commit the sight to memory forever. He tugged at Shikadai’s hand, hoping that would convey his thoughts, that he wanted Shikadai closer, and closer again, until everything made sense.

Inojin let his eyes slide closed, lips parted slightly as Shikadai leant in. It was a strange feeling still, being kissed, but he thought he liked it. It was different, but in a soft and intimate way that made him feel fluttery and grounded at once. Usually, contradictions like that unsettled him, but this one felt right, and felt good, and he couldn’t help the little, muffled laugh that escaped him.

Shikadai snapped his head back at the sound, looking at Inojin in near disbelief, because it was exceedingly rare to hear him laugh.

Inojin could feel his cheeks flushing pink, and he fought down a grin and stared at the floor. He could feel Shikadai looking at him, and he wondered if he shouldn’t sit down, because his knees were feeling more wobbly by the second. He found the courage to drag his eyes up to Shikadai’s, surprised at the softness he could see there.

In another brief flash of confidence, he put his hands on Shikadai’s shoulders and gently ushered him backwards across the room, until they reached the bed. Shikadai sat down on the edge with a soft thump, never once looking away from him, and Inojin shuffled around him, climbing onto the bed so he could lean his back against the wall for stability.

Shikadai turned to sit cross-legged opposite him, hands on his knees, as he thought things through. The silence continued, and Inojin could hear his heart beating as he waited for Shikadai to make some other move. He closed his hands into fists around the top of the blankets, to stop them from shaking too much. There seemed to be something significant in what they were doing, even though it had thus far been innocent, barely-there gestures.

Shikadai shifted closer, and Inojin bit down on his lip to stop himself from saying something stupid, hoping Shikadai would say something first, since he was better with words and better with most things, and really, Inojin liked it when Shikadai took charge and made things seem easy.

Shikadai let out a tense breath. “You sure about this?”

“Yes.” Inojin was pleased that his voice didn’t shake.

“Okay, ‘cause I . . .” Shikadai hesitated again. “I am too. And I want to try things with you, and see what happens, and, well . . . I need to know you’re okay with it.”

“Bit nervous,” Inojin admitted, because while being close to Shikadai was not new, this electric feeling was, and this heavy tension was, and it felt like this very moment was charged and profound even though nothing had really happened.

“Why?” Shikadai asked. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Inojin shook his head. “No. Just . . . just wanna try things but . . .” He trailed off, a faint squirm of embarrassment worming its way through the nervousness.

“But?” Shikadai prompted.

“But I don’t like being touched, sometimes,” Inojin whispered, hating that he had to admit it.

“That’s okay,” Shikadai assured. “Anything you want is okay.” He drew in a deep, slightly shuddering breath. “And you can say stop anytime, okay?”

Inojin nodded rapidly.

Shikadai raised one hand, and Inojin was both startled and pleased to see it faintly shaking, as though Shikadai was just as nervous and just as out of his depth as Inojin was. It sparked a little flash of sturdy confidence within Inojin’s belly, because he and Shikadai were on the same page, were equals for once, with Shikadai no longer outdistancing him on everything.

Shikadai’s hand came to rest on Inojin’s shoulder, closer to his neck than usual, a few of his fingers over the collar of Inojin’s shirt and resting on the skin of his neck. Inojin closed his eyes, so he didn’t have to think about where to look, and was hyper aware of the feeling of Shikadai’s warm fingers against him, and the faint trembling.

He leaned forward a fraction, resting his forehead against Shikadai’s. He felt Shikadai move again, then suddenly there were fingers grazing the side of his temple, as Shikadai pulled his forehead protector off. Inojin heard the soft thump as it hit the floor somewhere, then Shikadai’s fingers were combing through his bangs. Inojin shook a bit at the sensation, and Shikadai asked, concerned, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he managed to squeak, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

Shikadai sat back a bit, thinking hard. “Are you sure? It’s not making you uncomfortable?”

Maybe a little, but Inojin was willing to bet that was just because he wasn’t used to anyone else playing with his hair. His parents did, but that was different, and that was quicker and more casual, whereas Shikadai was slower and lingered and Inojin didn’t know what to think. “. . . No . . .?”

Shikadai sighed, taking his hands back, and Inojin blinked his eyes open, wondering where the contact had gone. Shikadai was studying him, with that intense look he got when he had a puzzle to solve. “Did you like that?”

“Yes.” Inojin could answer that surely. Shikadai’s skin was warm, and pleasant, and Inojin loved the closeness. It felt real.

Shikadai’s eyes narrowed a bit, flicking briefly to one side as his mind surged through possibilities. “Inojin.”

“Hm?”

“Let me know if this is okay. If it feels okay.” In one smooth motion, Shikadai formed a seal with one hand, and Inojin stared curiously. A black shadow snaked its way from Shikadai to Inojin, crawling up his side to rest on his neck and shoulder, as Shikadai’s hand had been. Inojin blinked, surprised.

“It’s warm,” he said, slightly awed, because during training when Shikadai pinned him in his shadow it always felt cold, and a bit hard. But this felt like Shikadai’s hand had felt, except without the unsettling feeling that skin to skin contact sometimes caused.

Shikadai made a vaguely assenting ‘hrm’ under his breath, brow scrunching up in concentration.

The shadow flickered a bit on Inojin’s neck, but it felt like a warm breath of wind, and Inojin liked it. There was a sense of safety and security to it, and he grinned, happiness bubbling in his chest at the feeling. Being touched without all the stress of actually being touched.

Delighted at the sensation, and not feeling trapped in the least, Inojin leant forwards to plant a quick kiss on Shikadai’s lips, closing his eyes and feeling the shadow move along with him, as fluid as air breezing past.

The shadow flashed away in one startling moment, and Inojin flinched slightly at the unexpected loss, sending a worried look at Shikadai, who looked slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry,” Shikadai murmured. “Never practiced kissing and holding shadows at the same time.”

That drew a genuine laugh from Inojin, and he felt a bit lighter suddenly.

Shikadai snorted and almost choked on a laugh of his own, seemingly delighted by Inojin’s reaction.

“Better practice more, then,” Inojin suggested shyly.

Shikadai grinned at him. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

The moment of levity boosted both their confidence levels, and Inojin sat up a bit straighter, beckoning Shikadai into grabbing distance, until he could close his fingers into the sleeves of Shikadai’s jacket and pull him close to rest their foreheads together.

Shikadai, carefully, laid his hands over Inojin’s.

The sound of the front door opening caused them both to jerk their hands back, with Shikadai shifting back to put a good foot of space between them. He sent the closed door a slightly frantic look.

Inojin pressed his lips together thinly, raising one hand to run his fingers through his bangs, mostly for something to do.

There was silence in the house, which meant it was Sai and not Ino.

After a tense, silent few minutes, Inojin cleared his throat softly.

“You busy tomorrow?” Inojin whispered.

“Yeah, I am,” Shikadai replied.

Inojin whipped his head up, frowning.

Shikadai shrugged one shoulder sheepishly. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”


End file.
